


Come for the Shoes, Leave with a Date

by SasuNarufan13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flirting, Harry works in a bike shop, Harry's POV, M/M, Potters are alive, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 09:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuNarufan13/pseuds/SasuNarufan13
Summary: Harry sees absolutely no point in buying new shoes when the ones he has are still perfectly good, thank you very much. The blond guy in the store is quite handsome, though … Maybe buying some new shoes won't be that bad after all.





	Come for the Shoes, Leave with a Date

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This is something random I came up with after watching a particular YouTube vid. It's not exactly a master piece, but I figured this was a good way to work my way back into the HP fandom after having been absent for a bit (not because of lack of inspiration, but because of a lack of time).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this random oneshot!

**Come for the Shoes, Leave with a Date**

"I don't need new shoes, Sirius," Harry grumbled, following his godfather out of the car.

"I can basically see your toes poking right through those," Sirius retorted blankly, pointing at the scuffed up trainers Harry was wearing.

At one point they'd been a brilliant white, but that time had long since passed and now they were a mixture of dark grey and black around the edges from tramping through the forest and working in his godfather's repair shop. His parents had been on his back about them for a while now, insisting he should throw them away and buy a pair that didn't look like they would fall apart at the seams any second now.

He thought their insistence was ridiculous, because his _trainers were fine_. Sure, there were some scuff marks on them and a bit of the rubber had come loose, but honestly, what was the point of shoes if you weren't allowed to get them dirty. Of course they showed a little wear – he'd been wearing them for months now! Obviously they wouldn't look new anymore!

So he'd ignored his parents' needling about getting new shoes, but it seemed they had decided to switch tactics and had brought Sirius into play – knowing full well he adored his godfather so much that he was willing to accompany him to a shoe store with only the bare minimum of whining happening.

His parents were far too sneaky and they would definitely get one Christmas present deducted for the stunt they'd pulled.

Just because he hadn't been able to refuse Sirius' request to go shopping for shoes, though, didn't mean he would actually buy them. They could dupe him into following his godfather into a shoe store, but they couldn't actually force him to buy a new pair, so hah!

Checkmate as his best friend would say.

"Now you're exaggerating," Harry scoffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Squinting he looked at the store they were approaching quickly and was dismayed to discover that it was one of those uppity ones, where they took your measurements and brought out one expensive shoe after the other for you to try on. He'd never understood why shoes had to be so bloody expensive. You literally used them to walk on the ground! He just couldn't fathom why anyone would spend hundreds of pounds on a single pair of shoes when that was the part of your outfit which risked getting the most dirt on them.

Who in their right mind would shell out such a disgusting high amount for just shoes?

His godfather apparently.

Because Sirius owned and worked in a bike repair shop, it was easy to forget that the man also had quite the luxurious taste. A bit too luxurious if you asked Harry and he followed the older man begrudgingly into the store. The scent of leather hit him smackdab in his face and looking at the shiny wooden floor, he was almost afraid to take a step further in case he scuffed up the unnaturally clean floor somehow.

"Not exaggerating. You really need new shoes," Sirius insisted, looking completely at ease in the shop.

The whole shop was done in up all kinds of shades of brown with light brown panels covering the walls and dark brown shelves holding fancy looking shoes. A couple of dark red seats – the colour such a deep red it nearly looked brown in the dim lights – were dotted across the shop, each one facing a small mirror on the floor. The mirrors were presumably to check out one's feet when wearing the shoes. Again Harry didn't see the point in that; shoes weren't clothes that you could model in front of a mirror. Shoes either fit or they didn't and you didn't need a mirror in order to tell whether a shoe felt comfortable or not.

"I have other pairs at home," Harry retorted, scowling, and crossed his arms, finally taking a couple of steps further into the shop when Sirius beckoned him closer impatiently.

"All right, look, kid, your mum asked me to take you shopping so that you'll have at least one decent pair that aren't sneakers," Sirius explained and shrugged. "Might be good to wear those when you accompany your dad to his office parties."

Harry grimaced. "I don't even like those parties. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be on my side, being my godfather and all?" he said accusingly, giving the older man a foul look.

"I am," Sirius reassured him and then without shame added, "Remus thinks you need a new pair as well and he promised me we could try out that new position I found on the net a while back if I took you out to get new shoes."

"You betrayed me all just to get laid?!" Harry threw up his hands in disbelief.

Holding out his hands, Sirius replied, "Not just get laid, kid, he's going to try out the new position with me! Do you have any idea how long I've been asking him to try that one out?"

"No and I don't want to know that! The hell, Sirius, you're throwing me under the bus all just to have sex? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"New position, Harry," Sirius reminded him mercilessly. "Also, I'm not throwing you under the bus, god, don't be so dramatic. Consider it as a way to finally score when you go out."

Flushing a deep red, Harry snapped, "I don't some bloody fancy shoes to 'finally score', you absolute bell end! I'm doing fine on my own!"

"Yeah, I can see that," Sirius snorted and smirked. "When's the last time you even scored, you brat? I haven't seen you with anyone in several months."

"That's none of your fucking busi-"

"Ahem."

Swallowing the rest of his words, Harry barely managed to keep himself from jumping at the unexpected cough. When he turned his head, he saw an elderly man approaching them slowly. He was dressed in a fine suit and despite his age, his eyes were piercing and sharp when they glanced from Harry to Sirius.

"Mister Black, how nice to see you again," the man spoke in a gravelly voice.

"Good morning, Mister Ollivander, how are you doing?" Sirius grinned.

"Doing very well, very well indeed," Ollivander murmured; his eyes flicking briefly towards Harry again. "Are you here for a fitting or a direct purchase?"

"A fitting for me, but a direct purchase for my godson here." Sirius clapped Harry's shoulder firmly. "I'm afraid he's not really a fan of fittings for shoes. I nearly had to drag him inside here as it is."

" _Sirius!_ " Harry hissed embarrassed, glaring at him.

"Not a problem," Ollivander said calmly. "If it will be all right with you, I'll help you with your fitting, Mister Black, and my employee will help your godson with finding the right pair of shoes."

"That's fine with me. Harry?"

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" Harry muttered, a tad bitter. Whether he was okay with it or not, clearly he wasn't going to get out of getting new shoes today. What did it matter then whether it was this Ollivander guy or some other bloke who would help him? "I'm not paying for this, you know. You dragged me into this, you're going to pay."

"Already got it covered, kid, don't worry," Sirius replied and had the gall to smile. "Don't worry about the price; just pick out whatever you like."

"I might just pick out the most expensive pair, just to fuck with you," Harry muttered sourly underneath his breath and crossed his arms.

"Draco? A customer needs your assistance," Ollivander said, seemingly not paying any attention to the conversation going on between his two customers.

In spite of the fact that the man had barely raised his voice, a blond man – much younger than Ollivander – soon appeared in the shop, coming out of a door which presumably led to the back of the store.

"Who requires my assistance?" the blond man asked smoothly, approaching them in a couple of long strides.

 _The legs on that bloke …_ Harry didn't even realise he'd been staring a bit too long at the long legs dressed in a fine pair of black slacks, until he raised his eyes and looked straight into amused, grey ones. He was suddenly struck by how intense they appeared, the grey very striking – something he hadn't expected from a colour he had always considered to be rather bland – and for some reason his cheeks heated up and he had to glance away to gather his wits again.

Damn, it had been a while since someone's looks had caught him off guard like that. Granted, though … He sneaked another glance at the guy's – Draco's – face while he listened intently to Ollivander's explanation; the man _was_ quite the looker. Those striking grey eyes, those sharp cheekbones, full, pale rose lips, a straight nose; no blemish whatsoever to spot on his ivory pale skin … His light blond hair framed his aristocratic face perfectly, gleaming softly in the light. All that combined with strong shoulders, a slender waist, long shapely legs …

Easily the most handsome guy he'd seen so far. He could have come straight from a fashion magazine cover or the catwalk.

"All right, kid, have fun with the shoe fitting!" Sirius said cheerfully, smacking his back before he followed Ollivander deeper into the store.

"Good morning, my name is Draco Malfoy and I'll be assisting you today," Draco smiled.

Shit, even the guy's teeth were perfectly straight and white. "Er, thanks, I'm Harry Potter," he said, feeling incredibly awkward for some strange reason.

"Well, Mister Potter, do you have a particular style in mind?" Draco inquired.

"Call me Harry," Harry blurted out and hastily tacked on, "And I don't know. Shoes that you can wear to an office party, I guess? I don't know. My godfather dragged me here; I wasn't even planning on buying shoes, but he didn't give me any choice, because he's a dick like that. Aaaand I'm going to shut up now," he said mortified, his cheeks positively burning now.

Draco smiled amused and gestured towards a seat closest to one of the mirrors. "In that case, would you mind if I brought you a couple of different styles, so you can see for yourself which ones feel the most comfortable for you?"

"Er, knock yourself out, I guess." Harry shrugged awkwardly and god, could he get any worse? What was wrong with him? "No experience whatsoever with fancy shoes, so … I'm just going to trust your judgement on this."

Draco inclined his head; his smile deepening. "I'm honoured," he said. "Take a seat, I'll be right with you."

Harry watched him disappear into the back through the door and couldn't help but notice that on top of his already very good looks, Draco had a rather nice arse too. Fuck, he was the whole package when it came to good looks, huh?

Gingerly he sat down on the seat he'd been pointed to and looked around at the shoes displayed on the walls. He started twisting a loose thread of his ripped jeans around his index finger, feeling severely underdressed and out of place surrounded by all those fancy looking shoes. This type of store just wasn't him. His dad was the type to wear fancy dress shoes – mostly because he needed to do that for his work – but that wasn't his style at all. Give him comfortable trainers any day over these fancy, shiny dress shoes. At least with trainers, he didn't have to worry about accidentally spilling something on them or stepping into something whilst working at his godfather's bike shop.

"All right, I'm here with a couple of styles I think you might like."

Harry started, having been looking at a pair of boots near the entrance. He hadn't heard the blond man come back at all and swallowed when he saw the pile of boxes Draco placed on the floor next to him.

"I don't know whether you have a colour preference?" Draco looked at him questioningly and continued when Harry just shrugged, "So for now I just grabbed the ones in black. You can decide afterwards whether you want to keep this colour or whether you prefer the brown one. Is that all right with you?"

"It's fine," Harry said, releasing his breath slowly. He couldn't help but feel apprehensive when the lid of the first box was removed and a shiny, black shoe was retrieved from it.

"We'll start off with a classic one," Draco said, turning the shoe slowly around in his hands. "This one is an Oxford; a classic dress shoe that every man should have in his closet. It has a closed lacing system, these stitches along the bottom, see?" he ran a finger across them carefully, "This one also has a low heel and a short back, which give it a neat appearance. You mentioned the shoes being needed for an office party, well, this type of shoe is a perfect choice for any formal situation, especially when paired with a suit. As I mentioned before, these come in different colours. Black, polished ones, like this one, work for the highest of dress codes, while the other colours are more suitable for any number of events."

"Right," Harry said blankly, staring at the shoe. The explanation didn't really tell him much, except that the man had a rather nice voice to listen to, and that apparently this shoe was a good fit for an office party.

"Would you like to try this one on?"

"Er, yeah, but I haven't given you my size yet."

"I'm pretty good at sizing up customers," Draco replied easily and was that a smirk on his face?

While Harry tried to think of anything to say to that, Draco smoothly knelt down and slipped off Harry's right trainer. Before he could react to that, the Oxford shoe was slid on and he was staring down at bright blond hair while Draco adjusted the shoelaces and the rim of the shoe. His fingers around Harry's ankle should feel ticklish – he'd always been ridiculously sensitive there – but they just felt warm even through the thin layer of his sock.

"All right, how does that feel?" Draco asked, pulling away.

Harry stood up and walked back and forth in front of the mirror, concentrating on how the shoe felt. It definitely felt different than his trainers, the material stiffer and firmer around his foot, but – it didn't feel bad per se.

Sitting back down on the seat, he said, "It feels good. I can walk in it, so." He flushed again when grey eyes lit up with amusement.

"If I may be so bold, you are really not used to wearing this type of shoes, right?"

Sighing a bit aggravatedly, Harry ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. "No offence, but this just isn't my type of store, okay? My godfather forced me to accompany him, but I'm more the type to wear trainers. I don't have a need for fancy shoes, anyway. It's not like my work would allow me to wear them a lot."

"What kind of work do you do?" Draco questioned, unlacing the shoe and pulling it off his foot carefully.

"I work in my godfather's bike shop, repairing bikes, doing a bit of the administration, things like that," Harry replied, watching the shoe go back into the box.

"Can you drive a bike?"

Was that interest Harry was hearing in his voice? "Yeah, I can," he answered smiling. "My godfather taught me how to and I got my license a few years back. Saving up for a new one now because my old one was ready to fall apart."

"Must be nice, riding on a bike," Draco commented and pulled the second box closer.

"It really is," he confirmed and excitement brewed in him when he went on, "There's just this amazing rush you get when you're on your bike with a long stretch of road in front of you and you can just give it your all and feel the wind around you. That feeling of freedom you get from it – nothing can compare to it."

Others went bungee jumping or mountain climbing, but driving a bike was all the adrenaline rush Harry craved. The way the engine would purr, roar whenever he went just a little bit faster; the wind whipping around him; his surroundings flashing past him …

_It was pure freedom._

"Hearing you talk about it like that, makes me wish I could drive one," Draco chuckled, studying the next shoe he had in his hands. This one had a slightly less intricate design and looked like the ones his dad wore.

"Well, whatever's holding you back from trying it?" Harry inquired. Unbiddenly his mind conjured up an image of the blond man dressed completely in a leather suit and a helmet and he had to blink a couple of times, hoping that his cheeks weren't as red as they felt like.

"My parents mostly," Draco smiled wryly and looked up at him. "I'm already pushing my father's limits by working here – he'd get an aneurysm for sure if he ever caught me with a bike. Best not to push him too much, even if I'm an adult now."

"Your dad's not happy with you working here? What's wrong with it?" Given how expensive the whole shop looked like, Harry didn't think the pay would be too shabby.

Draco hummed and almost absently replied, "My father's a lawyer – the latest one in a long line in my family. He'd been holding out hope that I would follow into his footsteps but unfortunately law studies never appealed to me."

"What does appeal to you?" Harry asked curiously. His own dad worked in the law enforcement as a detective chief inspector, but he'd never been bothered by the fact that his son wasn't interested in joining him in the field.

When Harry had shown an interest in repairing bikes, he'd just told him to go for it and make sure he wouldn't crash if he drove one.

"Fashion actually," Draco answered slowly; his eyes flicking around the shop. "I'm currently studying fashion design – this is a part time job I took up because it fits well in my field of study."

"I don't know much about fashion," Harry admitted sheepishly. "Never been really into it, but I know you can get far in the field."

Draco nodded; a small smile playing around his lips. "That's exactly what my mother said when I told my father I wanted to study fashion design."

"Your mother on your side?"

"She is, yes. She works in the fashion industry herself. First as a model, now as a designer of shoes." His lips curled into a smirk. "You can imagine she was happy that I got a job at this place."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I can imagine that."

"So repairing bikes – has that always been your dream job?" Draco questioned and helped him put on the next shoe. "This is a Derby, by the way. It has a more comfortable style than the Oxford one, but is still perfectly suited for most formal occasions and again, can easily be paired with a suit."

Once the shoe was laced up, Harry stood up again and walked back and forth with it in front of the mirror again. "Well, I suppose not at the start," he answered the blond's question. Hm, this shoe seemed to be more comfortable than the previous one at least. "When I was a kid I wanted to be a firefighter first, then police like my dad. You know, typical boys' dreams."

Draco chuckled in agreement.

"Then when I was around fourteen, I started helping out my godfather in his bike shop and I guess it grew from there. I got interested in it and once it was time to decide what I wanted to do with my life, I started working at the bike shop full time. Have loved it ever since."

He sat back down and wiggled his foot back and forth. "This one feels better than the first one."

Draco nodded and removed the shoe, putting the box behind him this time. His eyes gleamed when he glanced up and murmured, "I bet you look great when working on bikes. Or driving them," he added and his eyes darkened a tad.

The atmosphere between them seemed to shift slightly and Harry cocked his head slightly to the right, wondering whether he was reading this whole situation correctly. "Driving on them, maybe, but nobody looks good covered in oil smears," he said lightly.

"Oh, I don't know. A little bit of dirt never hurt anyone." That was definitely a smirk now. "I bet _you_ at least look good whether dirty or clean." And that smirk had definitely turned wicked now.

 _This was getting very interesting_. "Depends on the kind of dirt, I suppose," Harry retorted, all too aware of the fingers still resting loosely around his ankle.

"Hm, true. You know, I have a shoe here I think you'll like." Instead of going for the third box, Draco went for the last one, putting the rest further away.

To his great surprise, Harry saw that the shoe was a lace up boot this time, instead of the previous fancy dress shoes.

"Here, why don't you try this one and tell me how it feels?" Draco suggested, helping his foot slide into the boot.

"That's not exactly a fancy dress shoe," Harry commented, watching slender, pale fingers lace up the boot quickly.

"No, it's not, but it's a style you'll pull off for sure," Draco said and yep, that was a wink, all right.

The shoe looked rather clunky but Harry was pleasantly surprised to find that he had an easy time walking around in it. He wasn't really used to wearing boots, but he thought he could get used to wearing this particular one. It looked casual enough that he could wear it on a day to day basis, yet still managed to look quite elegant enough to pair with a suit.

"Yes," Draco's voice drew his attention and he stilled when the man licked his lips, "I'd say you pull it off really well actually. How does it feel?"

"Feels great actually," Harry replied, plopping back down on the seat and leaning back on his hands.

"Not a sentence you ever thought you'd say with regards to fancy shoes, hm?" Draco smirked.

"No, I usually say it in a completely different context," Harry riposted cheekily and had the pleasure of seeing pale cheeks pink slightly. "I'm choosing these shoes. You're right; I do like this style."

"I think your partner will think they look nice on you as well," Draco said nonchalantly, returning the boot back into its box.

He was fishing for information now, right? Yeah, he was definitely fishing now, no doubt about it. "I don't have anyone now, actually. Not seeing anyone at all," he said, sounding calmer than he felt. His heart skipped a bit when piercing grey eyes met his.

"Is that so? How odd. I would think someone like you wouldn't have any trouble finding someone," Draco remarked and stood up, the box in his hands.

Harry stood up as well after hastily shoving his foot back in his trainer. "Guess not everyone thinks someone working in a bike shop is appealing enough."

"They must have no taste then, because from where I stand, it sure does provide an appealing image." Draco took a step closer; his eyes half lidded.

"Appealing enough to see again?" Harry asked cheekily, crossing his fingers behind his back.

Grey flashed. "Mister Potter, are you asking me out on a date?" Draco questioned haughtily.

"I might be. What would you say if I was?"

"That I'm free tonight at seven o'clock for example or that I quite like that steak restaurant around the corner."

"What a coincidence: I quite like that restaurant as well," Harry grinned.

"What a coincidence indeed. It would be nice to eat there together – if you might ask me out on a date." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Draco Malfoy, can I have the honour of taking you out tonight at seven o'clock to this magnificent steak restaurant?" Harry asked, offering a mock bow.

"You most certainly do have the honour, Harry Potter. That is, of course, if you're taking me on your bike."

They stood so close together that only the box between them separated them from fully touching each other. Harry was still close enough to discover that he'd been wrong, and piercing grey was not the only colour in Draco's eyes. There were also little specks of blue and green around the pupils, like spots in a gemstone.

"Oh, I think that can be arranged," Harry murmured and grey, blue, green lit up while pale pink curled up in a smile.

_Definitely the most handsome bloke he'd ever seen._

* * *

"You look awfully chipper for someone who acted like he'd been sentenced to the gallows just an hour ago," Sirius commented when they made their way back to the car. "You're that happy with your shoes?"

"They're nice, can't complain about them," Harry hummed and after dumping the boots in question in the boot of the car, he settled down in the passenger's seat. "By the way, I can't work late tonight."

"Oh, and why's that?" Sirius raised an eyebrow and started the car.

"Because I have a date tonight," Harry replied cheerfully and began messing with the radio.

"Wait, how the hell did you manage that? You were inside the store the entire time – oh." Realisation crossed the older man's face. "You're going on a date with that blond kid?"

"His name is Draco and yes, yes, I am," Harry grinned; butterflies rampaging in his stomach. Fuck, he couldn't wait until seven p.m.!

"What's his last name again?"

"Malfoy, why?"

"Malfoy? As in son of Lucius Malfoy, as in the lawyer your dad hates so much he'll happily spend time if that means he can push him off a cliff?" Sirius asked in disbelief, staring at him with wide eyes.

Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hm, I guess so. Malfoy isn't that common as a last name, is it?"

"Your dad's going to kill you," Sirius said, sounding both amused and horrified.

"Hey, it's his own fault," Harry said and shrugged. "He's the one who insisted I needed new shoes after all. He can only blame himself for this."

Maybe he ought to thank his dad, even. Without his and mum's insistence, he'd never have met Draco probably.

Guess buying new shoes wasn't that awful after all.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Like I said, completely random, but that's how my brain works *shrugs*
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I hope to see you all again in my future stories!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


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